Rewriting to improve writing.
"Gods are born out of the need of humans but they shall die at the hands of the ones they've wronged."
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The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
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I didn't know you loved me. A child doesn't feel loved unless you love them. You, do not love me.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ The Voyager continued its breakneck pace through the sky, effortlessly slicing through clouds as if they were mere wisps of smoke. The son of Hephaestus at the controls hadn't budged from his seat for a solid seven hours. His posterior seemed almost fused to the chair, creating an impression as if it had been glued in place. Beside him, a half-eaten piece of fruit lay forgotten, a testament to Declan's earlier efforts to get him to eat something and break his relentless focus.
His brown eyes, once masked by green contacts, were now clear and intense. They were locked onto the intricate map spread out before him, tracing every contour and detail. The air vehicle itself rumbled ominously under the strain of its breakneck speed, the powerful engines roaring in protest. Despite this, the son of Hephaestus's finger hovered incessantly over the acceleration control, nudging it higher whenever they found themselves traversing a safe and unobstructed airspace.
Percy's anger was more than palpable; it was a living, breathing entity in the confined space of the Voyager. His entire demeanor radiated fury, his posture rigid and tense, as if coiled like a spring ready to unleash its stored energy. The events that had unfolded earlier had left an indelible mark on him. It had taken the combined efforts of Maliah, Grover, and Declan to pull him back from the brink. In the seclusion of his room, he had fumed and raged, his fingers clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned a ghostly shade of white.
Annabeth had sat beside him, a palpable aura of anxiety surrounding her, her fingers nervously tracing over the empty space on her wrist where Luke's missing bracelet should have been. She harbored a desperate hope that it had simply fallen off in the chaos of the fire and nothing more sinister. Amidst this backdrop of tension and unease, Percy's voice sliced through the air, sharp and biting. "That fucker," he snarled, his body rocking back and forth with unrestrained agitation. "I'm going to rip that shit face's head off."
Maliah, her eyes filled with concern and worry for her half-brother, exchanged a glance with Grover. The constant hum of the Voyager filled the room, a steady background drone that underscored their collective anxiety. Y/N's gift from the Aphrodite cabin - a distinctive pink bag - and Luke's smaller bag were sprawled out on the bed, their contents slightly disheveled. The remnants of their frantic search for clues were evident, a jumbled array of personal items and mementos.
In an attempt to reassure Percy, Grover began speaking, his voice tinged with a subtle tremor that betrayed his own apprehension. "Percy," he started, choosing his words carefully. "It's fine. We just need to retrieve one more item from the Louvre. Once we have it, we can head back to Olympus, return the artifacts to the gods, and ask them to expedite the God killer situation. I'm sure everything will work out."
Percy's brow furrowed deeply, lines of worry etched across his face. He responded, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration, "How can you say it's fine, Grover? Y/N and Luke vanished from the Opera House. They've disappeared without a trace. Who knows where they could be?"
